From Harold

My brother Bob:
The early days, he rode an Indian motorcycle. Well, he rode it and pushed it about as much as he rode.

We hiked the Appalachian trail from NJ almost to VA.

We hunted with cap and ball rifles in NY state.

We mined opal in Spencer Idaho, panned gold in the river of no return in Idaho.

We ate lobsters on the beach in Hawaii that we caught. And drank and argued religion, and politics until we forgot what we were arguing about.

We fished and clammed from NJ to SC. We went scuba diving in the Cooper River and off shore SC for fossils and artifacts. We commercial fished off the coast of SC together. And being at sea for 4 or 5 days at a time, I think we solved most of the world's problems, but never could agree on politics.

We had our agruments and disagreements like all brothers do. I never knew anyone who loved the simple things in life like he did. Reading a good book, listening to a little classical music, or just crack open a few raw clams to eat. And no matter how bad things got, he could always make you feel better. I know I will find myself wanting to pick up the phone and give him a call. Or drive to Charleston just to say hello. Like all of us will do that knew him well.

But right now I feel that he is either hiking the Appalachian trail, or sailing off with the wind at his back and the islands ahead, or he is out in the river just digging a few clams. A better friend and brother, you couldn't find.

Though physically, he may not be with us, he will always be in our thoughts. And on those bad days, drink a little rum, and never forget the good times. We all Love you Bob. Some day we will be together again. Harold